One Day I Will Live In A House Without Slamming Doors, Angry Men, And Stinging Words

Grief is such a peculiar phenomenon. It truly alters every single aspect of your life. I don’t think there’s any part of my life that was left untouched by my grief.

I truly lost touch with reality after my parents passed. And I believed for a long time that my parents were gone, dragged back into the earth with words left unspoken, and nightmares put to rest; but as time has escaped me, I have been disproven. My parents may be ash now, but I see them everyday in myself. It’s horrifying, and sometimes beautiful. All of my life I’ve been told I act and look just like my father, and while that remains true, my mother’s venom has snuck its way into my behavior. I constantly feel like I’m fulfilling their doomed prophecies for myself now that they’re gone.

But I know that it doesn’t have to be that way. I know I can change and I need to allow myself to sit with this, instead of running and running and running. I am so tired, and I need to stop giving up on myself. I may lick my wounds like my dad, and I may carry my mother’s temper, but I don’t have to *be* them. I can be better. I hope I will be better.

lay me down with the leaves and the moss. rest me by rotting wood with hidden mushrooms and beneath trees as tall as mountains. let the forest eat me alive.

I really need a fucking break, or a gun

Suns out. flowers are blooming. birds are chirping. yaoi shit is happening to me. maybe it'll all be ok

✷ ✷ ✷

[ID: Digital illustration of a nude trans masculine person, cropped from thigh to shoulder. They are leaning back, holding a small dagger pointing between their legs. They have red top surgery scars, and a hairy chest and stomach. Two pale silhouettes of hands reach around the figure, as if stroking their belly and thigh. The figures are surrounded by a border of leaves and red flowers, with a star in the center overhead. There is an 8 pointed star covering the figures groin. The piece is done in a minimal color palette of black, red, and warm beiges and yellows. /. End ID]

basically everything i’ve been feeling

Goatsong, Leila Chatti

so insanely fucked up that i have to spend the rest of my life working like. ten times as hard to function as a normal person because of shit that wasn't my fault. wdym i have to spend the rest of my life medicated and in therapy just because my parents were mean to me and then died?????????????? like at what point is that shit worth it because i'm medicated and going to therapy and i still have absolutely zero hope for myself. nothing has changed except the fact that everything has gotten progressively worse and it's my fault but i don't know how to end the cycle i genuinely can't take this

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

just finished watching honey boy and what the fuck. all i did was cry for the last 30 minutes of that movie. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a movie that horrifically, yet beautifully relatable.

i love my friends so much

pretty odd my beloved

Go on, grab your hat and fetch a camera

Go on, film the world before it happens

I listened to pretty odd on repeat the other day while studying, woke up this morning to see panic had replaced LANA DEL REY as my second most streamed artist.

Pretty Odd and A fever are two of the most amazingly crafted pieces of art on this earth.